To the Fairest
by CharlesTheBold
Summary: As Adam seeks girls to model for his new masterpiece, Joan gets worried. Is it all just about art? SURPRISE ENDING. Chapter 7 revised January 28. Please Review
1. Artist's Block

**TO THE FAIREST**

**Chapter 1 Artist's Block **

___(Disclaimer: I have no business connection with JOAN OF ARCADIA. My only purpose in writing this story is to have fun and maybe share it)_

_(Author's Note: Edith Hamilton's "Mythology" is a real book and an excellent one. The "Illustrated Guide" is just something I made up for the sake of the story)_

The Arcadia Academy of Art was not a grand institution. Some people, from its initials, confused it with the American Automobile Association or Alcoholics Anonymous. Whenever a really great picture arrived in the area it was snapped up by greater museums in Washington or Baltimore. But it was sufficient for Adam's purpose, which was to look for inspiration.

Adam's life in the last few months had gone very well. Joan had forgiven him for his unfaithfulness with Bonnie. Bonnie had assured him that he was not the father of her child, and had found a nice family willing to adopt it. He had gotten a new job with people who respected his skills. Most importantly, he had learned that Joan, whom he had always considered special, really was unique. She had found special favor with God Himself, who gave her errands and seemed to be guiding her life. And some of that favor seemed to be rubbing off on her friends: Grace, Luke, and now Adam himself.

So why was Adam having trouble embarking on a new work? There were the artworks he created at his job, of course, but they didn't count. He wanted to produce something on his own, and had always been able to do so before. So now he was at the AAA gallery, looking for inspiration.

"Writer's block?" inquired a voice behind him.

Adam was so engrossed in his own thoughts that it didn't seem surprising that a stranger would pick them up. "I'm an artist, not a writer."

"The principle is the same."

Adam turned around to see a man who was almost the caricature of The Artist: clothes that were shabby but not disgusting, a long beard, sensitive eyes. He didn't know any real artists who looked like that. "You're _Him_. Joan's friend."

Artist God nodded. "And you have a problem. Artist's block, or whatever you want to call it."

"Yeah. Can you make it go away?"

"First, a block is an absence of inspiration. It makes little sense to talk of making a lack of something go away; you fill the lack instead. And placing an idea in your mind would interfere with free will. But I can give advice."

"Whatever. I'd appreciate the help."

Artist God pointed out a painting. "Do you see that work?"

Adam looked. A man in ancient armor was being undressed by a woman who was wearing very little herself. The caption said VENUS DISARMING MARS, followed by an Italian name which Adam had never heard of.

"The painter was a pious Catholic, a contemporary of Shakespeare and even overlapping part of Galileo's life," lectured the Artist. "Yet in producing that painting, he dramatized a religion that had been dead for at least a thousand years. And that picture is not alone. Most of French drama in the period was on mythology -- Andromache, Phaedre, etc. Bernini, architect of St. Peters in Rome, did a statue of Apollo and Daphne with the Pope's full approval. Why?"

Most people would probably reply with some theory only to get it shot down. But Adam was a boy of few words. "I don't know."

"Because mythology provided artists with a vast amount of ready-made imagery. Far more than the Middle Ages did, with its focus on Me rather than on the visible world. If an artist was stumped for a subject, he could usually scan mythology for symbols of what he wanted to express. That painting, for example, symbolizes the triumph of love over war."

"It sounds odd for you to be praising pagan mythology."

"It's not an either-or situation. When people prayed to Zeus or Jupiter and called him the Lord of the Universe, they were basically talking about Me."

"But this is the twenty-first century. Mythology is so retro."

"Is it? Even now people talk of a strong man as a Hercules and a beautiful woman as a Venus. 2001 Space Odyssey. Joyce's ULLYSES. The Oedipus Complex."

Maybe Artist God was right. In earlier years Adam had produced abstract art, Things made out of Stuff, as they occurred to him. But on the advice of his mentor, Helen Girardi, he had moved to more conventional paintings whose imagery would be more comprehensible to others. And perhaps that was the root of his problem: this mode of operation wasn't instinctive to him.

"You're not asking me to paint a specific painting?"

"Paint what you like. Or perhaps you won't paint anything afterward. I'm just making suggestions." He walked off into another gallery, waving goodbye.

Adam was not fooled. Joan had told him the rules: the Divinity might make suggestions, but He usually had a specific goal in mind. His helper was supposed to puzzle out what the goal was, and usually solving the puzzle was equally or more important than attaining the goal itself.

Adam had better start studying mythology.

-------

Adam drove the truck to the Book Site. Not only was it considered the best bookstore in Arcadia, since its recent renovation two months ago, but Joan was a co-manager there and would be in a position to help him.

And, indeed, she emerged from the stacks to greet him. "May I help you?" she asked, following the offer with a kiss.

"Do you kiss all your customers, Jane?" he whispered.

"Only my boyfriends."

"Any of the others here?" he teased.

"Nope. But I do have other customers in the reading area, so I'm afraid we can't make out."

"Actually, I'm here as a customer. Do you have a book on ancient mythology? A, um, certain friend of ours suggested that I read up on it."

Joan raised her eyebrows, catching the code: the "certain friend" was God, and the suggestion was a mission. But they couldn't go into details with other customers in hearing range. She got on the store's special database.

"Ah. The standard book on the subject is Edith Hamilton's MYTHOLOGY. I'll get it." She disappeared into the stacks and reappeared with a slim paperback. Adam leafed through it.

"Hmm, not many pictures. This has to do with art."

"Shoulda thoughta that." She got on the computer again. "Here's another: THE ILLUSTRATED GUIDE TO ANCIENT MYTHS."

"Sounds good, Jane."

She returned a minute later with a large hard-bound book. "It's what they call a coffee-table book: for show, but still has what you want. It's expensive."

"How much?"

"Two hugs and five kisses."

"We can do that as a separate transaction. Tomorrow evening?"

She nodded.

"In the meantime, I'll buy this the normal way. How much?"

"$24.90."

Adam winced inwardly, but hoped Joan wouldn't notice. She'd already tried once to offer it as a present, but this was Adam's mission.

As Joan ran his credit card, she whispered, "This is the first He's appeared specifically to you, right? What do you suppose is going on?"

"Dunno, Jane. Mysterious ways. But I suppose there'll be good ripples."

"Yeah. There are always good ripples…"

TBC


	2. The Judgement

**TO THE FAIREST**

**Chapter 2 The Judgement**

Adam thumbed through the Illustrated Guide that evening, looking at the pictures rather than the text. One particularly got his attention: a shepherd ogling not one but _three_ naked women. Aside from artistic considerations, Adam was enough of a hormonal teenager for that to get his attention. The caption identified the picture as THE JUDGEMENT OF PARIS and directed him to a nearby page.

It was an interesting story. The goddess Discord (yeah, Adam remembered her from XENA THE WARRIOR PRINCESS) was jealous of other goddesses for being more famous. Wanting to make fools of them, she sent a golden apple to a banquet that they were all attending, marked TO THE FAIREST. Naturally, every goddess at the table assumed that she was fairest and demanded the apple and real discord ensued. Zeus narrowed the choice down to three goddesses -- Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite -- but refused to choose between them, not wanting to make an enemy of the two losers. Instead he suggested that they choose a mortal judge with no conflicts of interest, with a pledge that the losers would not avenge themselves on him.

Their choice was Paris, who was the son of the King of Troy but had been sent away to herd sheep because of a bad oracle. This being ancient Greece, the goddesses didn't stop at bathing suits but agreed to appear to the judge in the nude -- hence the painting. And being a primitive culture (or maybe a decadently advanced one) they each tried to bribe Paris. Hera, Queen of the Gods, promised him a kingdom. Athena, Goddess of Wisdom, promised any knowledge he desired. Aphrodite, Goddess of Love, promised that he would win whatever woman he desired.

Paris chose Aphrodite, and demanded his reward. Unfortunately the woman he chose was married to a powerful king, and the elopement led to the Trojan War---

Adam found it all very silly. Three goddesses doing a strip-tease? The Divinity he and his friends knew would never do that. Bribes to fix a contest? No wonder people gave up on Greek religion, choosing Christianity or philosophy or no religion at all.

Putting aside the book, he considered a more immediate problem. It was February of his senior year. He had been accepted at several colleges, but had not yet decided which to accept.

There was one college with an in-depth program that Helen Girardi particularly recommended. But there was another college that was more prestigious; graduating from there might impress clients more and make it easier to get commissions. And either way, Joan wouldn't fit in. Should he try for a more general university where they could both attend?

Suddenly Adam had an epiphany.

Wealth, Knowledge, and Love -- every secular thing that man could desire, but Adam was asked to pick ONE of them. And, three thousand years ago, Paris had been asked to do the same thing. The bribes were just an awkward distraction, the naked ladies just a titillating element. The Judgement was really an allegory of a young man choosing what was most important to him in life.

Finally Adam had his subject.

--------------

The next day Adam spotted Glynis Figliola (she had kept her maiden name) walking to biology class. She was easy to spot, because the normally slender girl was now great with child, in her seventh month. Adam had heard that the Vice-Principal Price was not too happy to have a student that was married and pregnant (and not in that order), but Glynis' high academic standing had apparently carried her through.

"Let me help you with your books, Glynis."

"Thanks. So what are you doing these days, Adam?"

"Funny you should ask. I've just thought up a new picture called the JUDGEMENT OF PARIS. Do you know the story?"

"Sure. Three goddesses, Athena, Aphrodite -- I forget the third. Paris gives Aphrodite the prize, she pays him back by putting a love spell on Helen of Troy---"

"How do you know all that?"

Glynis laughed. "I do read things other than science."

They reached the door of the biology class and Adam let Glynis enter ahead of him. He had just had a new idea.

Now that he was no longer simply making up images out of his head, Adam thought he needed external models. But a pretty face was not enough. To paint Athena, Goddess of Wisdom, he would need somebody who EMBODIED wisdom, or at least intelligence. And what girl of his acquaintance was smarter than Glynis?

In the biology classroom, the students sat in their usual pairs: Glynis with her husband Friedmann, Joan with her brother Luke, Adam with Grace, who seemed even less inclined to conversation than usual today. Ms Lischak was her usual histrionic self.

"Class, today we will discuss Convergent Evolution: how different genetic lines are encouraged by natural selection to evolve toward a common goal. As an illustration, I will use an example that of interest to all of us: SEX!"

"One would think," the teacher continued, waving her baton, "that once sexual differences evolved, they would be so fundamental that they would be inherited by all future generations--"

"_Vive la difference_," said Friedmann. His wife slugged him. Some things hadn't changed with marriage.

Meanwhile Adam wrote a note to pass to Glynis. _Would you like to be the model for Athena?_

"--but that is not true. Mammals and birds have quite different mechanisms. You probably know already that mammals have X and Y chromosomes: two X's make a female, and XY makes a male. But among the birds the two sex chromosomes are a W and a Z: Two W's make a male, and a WZ make a female. But thanks to convergent evolution, a WZ female bird and an XX female mammal share many features in common, and likewise a WW male bird and an XY male mammal."

Glynis passed a note back_. Are you kidding? I look like a tribal fertility charm. Athena was a partheno, virgin._

"Yes, Miss Girardi?" asked the teacher.

"Does the difference explain why birds lay eggs and mammals have babies?" asked Joan.

Adam wrote, _we could combine your head with somebody else's body. It's the face that matters._

"Close, but not quite," the teacher replied to Joan. "There are a few mammals that lay eggs, such as the Australian platypus. But there is a feature common and unique to all mammals, and probably linked to the X chromosome. All female mammals have breasts or some equivalent for feeding their young. In fact, Aristotle defined mammals that way, more than two thousand years ago, and modern science agrees that that distinction is fundamental. MR. ROVE, just what are you doing that is more interesting to you than discussing female breasts?"

The class laughed, even Joan and Grace, and Adam turned red. He couldn't even think of a good excuse, and decided that he might as well tell the truth. "I'm looking for a model for a new painting."

"A nude model?"

"Um, no." Adam had decided that the nudity wasn't crucial to his concept.

"Pity. That might come under the heading of a study of anatomy, which would fit in with this class." The class laughed again. "So please keep your hobby out of classroom in the future."

Adam was very attentive from then on, but he had missed the fun parts. Now Ms. Lischek was talking about bats and their parallel invention of the power of flight. Then to the cetaceans and their re-invention of the fish-like body for swimming. And on and on.

As class let out, Glynis turned around to catch Adam. "I'm honored that you asked, Adam, but I'm just too self-conscious about my appearance right now to do any posing. Maybe after the baby comes."

Unfortunately, Adam was hoping to have his picture done by then.

As he walked toward the door, the teacher called out "Mr. Rove, may I have a word with you?"

Then Adam remembered that she was annoyed at him for "fooling around" during her lecture, and may give him detention. And he remembered another of Joan's rules about dealing with God:

_No good mission goes unpunished._


	3. Model Models

**TO THE FAIREST**

**Chapter 3 Model Models**

_(Author's Note: the writers never specified how Joan acquired her Lyme Disease, so I decided to fill in the gap in this chapter)_

"So. What is the work of art that you found more fascinating than my lecture?" asked Ms Lischak. At least she didn't immediately mention detention.

Adam couldn't discuss the divine angle. "I was going to do a mythological work. I needed a brainy woman to inspire the figure of Athena, Goddess of Wisdom."

"And it won't be a nude?"

"No. Regardless of what the myth says, I want it to be more symbolic, in modern terms. I thought Athena should wear a lab coat, or academic gown."

"When do you intend to work on this painting?"

_Did she want reassurance that I won't be doing sketches during class?_ "Saturday afternoon is probably the best time. I work in a studio behind my father's house -- actually just a converted shed."

"Fine. I'll be there, with my best lab coat. See you then," Ms. Lischak said, walking out of the classroom.

_Huh? What just happened? _Adam blinked in stunned confusion as the instructor left him behind.

----

Joan and Grace had a similar question when he joined them outside class. What the hell was Adam up to?

"I'm doing a mythological painting, and I wanted Glynis to pose for Athena -- the face, not the body," he added hastily. "That fell through, but Ms. Lischak will take her place."

"Why'd you choose Lischak?" asked Grace.

"I don't know. It just happened," Adam said glumly. Since he had escaped detention, it didn't seem like a good idea to renegotiate.

"Why didn't you want me for the goddess?" Joan demanded.

"I was saving you for Aphrodite, Goddess of Love and Beauty."

"Oh, that makes sense," said Joan, mollified. Grace snorted, and Joan turned red. "I mean--"

"Don't try to explain that away, Girardi," Grace said cheerfully, walking away.. "Wait until your brother hears that you think you're a Venus."

Joan wasn't looking forward to that, so she changed the subject. "Are there any other goddesses involved?"

"Yeah, Hera. She represents power and wealth. Ideally I should get a rich girl as a model, but why would any of them want to model for me?"

Joan thought. "There's Maggie Begh. Her family makes a lot of money breeding horses, but she doesn't give herself airs."

"Yeah, that's a thought. But her father is a Muslim -- he probably wouldn't approve of his daughter posing for a stranger."

"If somebody introduced you to the Professor, you wouldn't be a stranger."

"Grace? Isn't she good friends with Maggie?"

"Not at the moment. When they got in trouble together last month, Maggie's father gave her a thrashing while the rabbi just grounded Grace. Maggie thinks that she got the worst end of the deal -- her rear end -- and I can't really disagree."

"Neither can I."

"But I think the Professor likes me, so maybe I can introduce you."

-----

After school they drove out to the Begh farm in Adam's truck, this being one of Joan's days off from the bookstore. On the way, Adam pulled off the road so that Adam pulled off the road so that they could indulge in the promised "Two hugs and five kisses", but the make-out session was rather perfunctory. Joan, from long experience, wanted to keep the mission moving.

The farmhouse -- actually a large residence built in Moorish style was surrounded by vacant land, obviously used for grazing and riding horses in warmer weather. Adam knew of artists that would love to sketch this view, but landscapes weren't his thing. He had to have a personal connection.

Maggie herself answered the door when the pair rang. That was in itself a good sign. Last month, after an anti-Muslim incident, the Professor had hired a bodyguard to screen visitors. Now he obviously found that precaution unnecessary.

"Hi," Joan said. "This is Adam Rove, a young man I'd like to introduce to your father."

"Baba is in the stables at the moment, looking at a new horse. I will take you there."

"I can't go there -- Lyme Disease--…" stammered Joan, turning pale.

There was an awkward silence during which Maggie apparently expected Joan to explain further. When that didn't happen, she shrugged. "Come in, then. I'll tell Baba that you are here."

The Professor joined them a few minutes later. He seemed intrigued by Adam, as a quiet boy who obviously didn't fit the stereotype of the aggressive American male. And on learning that Adam was an artist, he launched on a comparison between Islamic and Western art, most of which went over Adam's head. He had little interest in the history of art, except when Helen Girardi forced him to look into it. She said that "a choice of genres can create a context for interpreting your work", etc, but Adam didn't take that intellectual approach. Fortunately, his quiet manner and abstracted look apparently convinced the Professor that he was absorbing it all.

"Adam's starting on a painting called "THE JUDGEMENT OF PARIS," Joan said when she could get a word in, "Part of the Trojan War story."

The Professor nodded. "Troy was located on what is now Turkish territory, though historically Turks have paid little attention to the pagan past. It was a German, Schliemann, who actually got the idea of digging and looking for artifacts from Troy. I've seen paintings of the Judgement. Most of them seem to be excuses for painting multiple portraits of nude women."

"Mine won't be like that. It's going to be symbolic." Adam had been working out the details in his head. "Paris himself won't be in it; the viewer will be taking Paris's point of view. On the right will be Athena, and behind her symbols of science -- DNA, rockets, atoms, and so on. On the left Hera, and behind her symbols of power and wealth -- I haven't quite decided on those. In the middle, Aphrodite."

"I'm going to be Aphrodite," said Joan. "And Ms Lischak, one of our teachers, will pose as Athena." That was a shrewd touch on her part; a teacher was unlikely to get involved in anything lurid. "We wanted to ask if Maggie could play Hera, Queen of the Gods."

"She won't have to take off--?"

"No, not at all," said Adam. "In fact, the richer her clothes are, the better."

"What do you think, Morgiana?" he asked, turning to his daughter.

"It sounds like fun, Baba."

"Very well. You may paint my daughter, Mr. Rove, on one condition. I must observe the session."

_Chaperone. I expected that_. Adam thought with relief, replying without hesitation, "Sure."

"When should I reserve the time?"

"Ms Lischak is posing this Saturday. I suppose we can use the following Saturday, that would be February 18."

"Fine. We can work out the exact time later." They shook hands, which on the Professor's part seemed a very formal gesture, a way of sealing a covenant. "One more thing. Joan, Morgiana quoted you as saying something about Lyme Disease, but didn't understand the message."

"Oh, long story," said Joan. "A couple of years ago I was taking pictures for the school annual. One girl had just won a riding competition and wanted to photographed on her horse, so I went out to her house. While we were walking near the stable, I got bitten by a tick that infected me with Lyme Disease." She omitted the detail that the pictures did not come out. "And since then I've been frightened of getting near horses-- or stables -- or woods -- basically anywhere ticks are," Joan concluded.

"I understand," said the Professor. "But as somebody who deals with horses all the time, I assure you that what happened to you was a rare accident. It has never happened to Morgiana or myself after years of contact. In fact, I think your health authorities should have investigated it."

"They did," Adam confirmed. "Joan was too out of it to know at the time. It turned out that the girl's family hadn't taken proper precautions against disease -- they were a family with a pet, not professionals."

"OK, so it's a phobia," conceded Joan, with a slight shrug. "It's still hard to get rid of. That was just about the worst time in my life."

"The disease was real serious," confirmed Adam, not wanting his Jane to look like a wuss. "She collapsed the last day of school and had to be rushed to the hospital." He did not voice his deeper emotions about the situation. At the time his reaction had been: "S--- Happens", and how horrible that it had to happen to his Jane. But now that he knew that her life was under divine guidance, it was all the more mystifying. Why didn't her Friend protect her against the accident? There seemed to be no purpose in it, no good ripples; in fact it had wrecked Joan's relationship to the Deity for months.

The conversation languished, with nobody wanting to argue with Joan. Maggie finally changed the subject.

"Do you want to see dresses for me to pose in?"

"Sure."

"Joan, please go with them," said the Professor. "I need to get back to examining the new horse."

Adam was a bit amused by that hasty exit. Apparently even the erudite Professor had a degree of machismo, and did not want to get in a fuss over girl's dresses. Joan would be "chaperoning" them.

Maggie's bedroom was an interesting combination of the American and the Mid-eastern. She opened an old chest whose ornate workmanship in odd symbols implied its Turkish origin. "Here's a dress that my aunt and uncle gave me during my last stay in Turkey. It's more than a century old, woven in Persia before it became Iran. Too gaudy for the streets of America. What do you think?"

"Awesome," enthused Joan. "It's beautiful…"

Adam looked at the multicolor silken fabric. It had the obvious function of advertising the wealth of the wearer; Grace would have called Conspicuous Waste. But, of course, that was exactly the symbolism he was looking for. "It'll be perfect."

Indeed, everything seemed to working out. Three models for three goddesses, and the prospect of being portrayed as a diva had made Ms Lischak forget all about detention. All the ripples were good. What could go wrong?

TBC


	4. Athena, the Bringer of Wisdom

**TO THE FAIREST**

**Chapter 4 Athena, Bringer of Wisdom**

_(Author's Note: the discussion of MACBETH's differences from history are from Asimov's book on Shakespeare, though the idea of the "witches" as earlier avatars of God was my idea. The mirror-image discussion is from Martin Gardner's science book THE AMBIDEXTROUS UNIVERSE.)_

On Saturday, February 11, Luke was sitting in a corner of the Book Site, looking over the bibliography that his sister had printed for him. What he was looking for was not information, but an idea.

For most of January he had been working a physics project to impress the Harvard admissions committees: pursuing the elusive Theory of Everything that would explain all physical phenomena. But two people whose opinions meant a lot to him had persuaded him to change his focus to biology. One of the people was Grace, who had gotten interested in the idea that advanced biology research might solve food production and world hunger. The other person was God, who had His own unexpressed reasons.

But did Luke need to abandon his dream of going to Harvard? Maybe he could impress the admissions committees with a biology project, if he could find one.

A shadow fell over Luke's desk. Luke looked up and started at the heavyset, thuggish man smiling at him.

"I'm lookin' for a copy of MACBETH," the man said, in a tone that implied that he might kill Macbeth once he tracked him down. "Your sister's busy. Can you find it?"

How did the man know that Luke's sister Joan was in charge of the store? "You're---"

"Yeah," said the man impatiently. "About MACBETH?"

Fortunately Luke knew where the Shakespeare shelf was. He led Tough Guy God through the stacks. "Here's Shakespeare, and here's MACBETH in particular.

Tough Guy God took the slim volume and waved it. "You know, it's all wrong?"

"Wrong?"

"Yeah. Macbeth didn't kill the king in his bed. He killed him in battle. By the standards of the time, that wasn't even wrong -- may the best man win, or rather let the winner be declared the best man. Though I have higher standards."

"What about the witches?" asked Luke, intrigued.

"Ain't no such thing as witches -- the only one who can meddle with My laws is Me. I told Mac that he was destined to be king and offered to guide him, but he messed it all up -- instead of waiting for destiny, he rebelled against the previous king and started a blood feud. Shakespeare changed it all."

"So you're mad at Shakespeare?" It was obvious to Luke that God was trying to tell him something, embedded in code. Maybe He thought Luke would get more interested in a mission if it started with a puzzle -- though He frequently gave Joan the same treatment.

"Nope. By getting in wrong, Shakespeare could do things that he couldn't do by getting it right. Explorin' the dark side, etc."

"So you want me to do something wrong?"

"Intellectually speakin', of course. Not sinful."

"What is it?"

"You'll think of somethin'," Tough Guy God said, walking out with a wave. Belatedly Luke realized the God hadn't paid for the book and he might have to reimburse Joan himself -- but the book was sitting on top of the shelf. God must have sent it back after the fact.

Do something productive by doing something wrong. What did that mean? Was God suggesting a project for Luke to work on? Something that would impress the Harvard committee -- He must be aware of that -- but also have good ripples?

In science and mathematics, one often examined reasoning that one knew was wrong, to search out the flaw. It was not a waste of time, it was a valid technique in searching for the truth, known variously as REDUCTIO AD ABSURDUM or "proposing counterexamples". So what was a wrong thing to do in biology? Ms. Lischak might know.

And Ms. Lischak was going to visit Adam in about half an hour to pose for Athena. Luke knew that time precisely because Adam had asked Luke's Mom to be a witness, in case anybody thought the teacher-student contact was out of line. And the whole idea of the picture had been a result of a previous divine command. Ripples.

Luke had to talk to Lischak.

-----

As Luke was about to enter Adam's "studio" in back of the Rove house, he bumped into his girlfriend coming out.

"Grace -- you're wearing a dress! Have you been posing for something?"

"Nope. I'm interviewing for a job today."

"You?"

"What do you mean, me? I'm not lazy." Grace was definitely not in a good mood, which was not unusual.

"No, but usually when you talk about 'jobs' you use words like 'wage slave'."

Grace calmed down. "Yeah. But working for your cousins during the December holidays taught me that not all employers are jerks. And I need money of my own. My 18th birthday comes up in April, and I want to move out of my parents' house. To do that, I need to be able to afford rent."

"Why move out? Joan's 18, and she still lives at home."

"Yeah, but I want to be able to invite my friends when I want. Have them stay as long as I want." She gave Luke a significant glance. "Even overnight."

"Um, right." This was not a time to discuss sleeping together, so Luke pretended not to take the hint. "But why were you visiting Adam?"

Grace looked disappointed at his not picking up. "The interview's at the fancy hotel he used to work at. He advised the dress last night, and I came by to see if he had any more ideas."

Luke heard more female voices from around the corner of the house: his mother and Miss Lischak. "Adam's father let him convert the shed to a studio several years ago, and it has worked out very well," said Helen's voice. "Oh, hello, Grace. Nice dress."

"Yeah, don't rub it in," said Grace sulkily, passing the two walking back to the front yard.

"It's interesting to see how differently students behave when you see them outside of class," Miss Lischak said dryly. "Or not."

"Hello, Luke," his mother said. "Are you helping Adam with his artwork?"

"No, I had a scientific question I wanted to ask Miss Lischak, and I knew she'd be here. It's about a project to impress college admissions people."

"Keep in mind that it's her free time, Luke. She doesn't have to be the educator right now."

"Oh," Luke replied, embarrassed. For him, science was of interest all the time."

"It's all right," said Lischak. "We'll see what Adam wants, and if we can talk in the meantime. You're my most promising student, Luke, and I'll be glad to help you get into your college."

The normally taciturn Adam was amazingly talkative today as he described his plans. "I'll draw sketches of the model first. I'll add them to the painting once the whole plan has gelled, but the model needn't be here for that."

"How do you want me to stand?" asked Lischak.

"In front of that gray screen I've set up over there; that'll give me neutral background. You'll be on the right side of the painting, facing slightly inward. Your attributes will be behind you further to the right. You should be waving toward them with your left arm, and indicating yourself with your right hand. Sort of saying 'if you pick me, you get these as well'."

"Yes, Master."

Adam looked flustered, realizing that he had been giving orders to a teacher. "Um, I mean--"

Lischak laughed. "Just kidding. I love the idea of being portrayed as the embodiment of knowledge. Will I be able to talk to Luke as I pose?"

"Hmm. I'll draw your face first, and I'll need you still for that. But after then it'll be okay.

"The relationship between the artist and sitter has always been awkward," Helen commented. "At one extreme you have a case like Raphael painting Pope Julius II, where one wrong brushstroke could ruin the artist's career. At the other extreme the sitter might be a servant of the artist, having to obey everything. After all, not many 'respectable' women in past centuries would take off their clothes for a living."

Lischak's inability to talk put a damper on conversation, until Adam announced that he finished with the face. Lischak then asked Luke to state his questions.

"I'd like to study the possibility of alternatives to the current structure of DNA, and why they didn't work," Luke said. That seemed to be a good example of "something wrong". "Are there any known?"

"Oh, yes. Most organic chemicals have mirror-image counterparts, something Pasteur discovered in the 19th century. The catch is that an organism normally can't use both the normal form and the image, so nature favors the useful form. A mirror-image animal could eat mirror-image food and produce mirror-image dung, but in fact mirror-image life never developed."

"Fascinating. Do we know why?"

"No. The usual theory is that both started out and our type got some advantage. The mirror image organisms couldn't eat us or even use our wastes, so they got starved out."

"Ugh," said Helen.

"Studying extinctions is not a pretty subject," admitted Lischak. "'Nature red in tooth and claw' is how Tennyson described evolution. I think it's one reason people find creationism so appealing."

_I could ask God about this, but it looks like this subject's already been covered a lot._ "What other alternatives are there?"

"Oh, there are lots of phenomena we know about without knowing the reason. For example, there are exactly 4 amino acids used in DNA. Why 4? RNA, the chemical designed to read and interpret DNA, reads the acids 3 at a time and produces proteins in response. Why 3? We don't know; it just does. If you want to look into alternatives, I'd say it would be an interesting project.

"Thanks."

"Adam, may I stop for a moment?" asked Lischak. "My arm's about to fall asleep from pointing."

"Sorry, yeah. Do you want to see what I've got so far?"

The four gathered around Adam's desk. "Here's the sketches of you. And here are samples of the objects I'm going to paint behind you. Hera, meaning Maggie Begh, will be the opposite: left side of the picture, with symbols of wealth further to her left. Aphrodite will be in the center."

"It looks like you have it well planned out."

"Thank you -- except that I haven't figured out what attributes to put behind Aphrodite."

"Maybe you shouldn't put anything," said Luke. "Aphrodite wins on her own, without any extra paraphernalia. Doesn't match the myth, of course, but does it have to?"

"That's a thought," commented Helen. "_Amor omnia vincit_ -- Love conquers all."

"And it's even symmetric," Lischak said. "Busy stuff on the side, simplicity in the center."

"Yeah," mused Adam. "I'd have to make Aphrodite the most beautiful thing in the world, to make it convincing, but since it's Jane doing Aphrodite, that shouldn't be a problem."

"Just don't tell my sister that I suggested she's the most beautiful thing in the world," Luke said cautiously. "Joan would never let me hear the end of it!"

TBC


	5. Hera, the Bringer of Pride

**TO THE FAIREST**

**Chapter 5 Hera the Bringer of Pride**

As Adam walked out the school entrance the next Thursday, he saw Grace sitting on a wall in a sulk, or rather a greater sulk than usual. Everybody gave her a wide berth, as if she radiated a repulsive force. But Adam was her oldest friend, and felt obliged to help out.

"Hi, Grace," he said. When that didn't get a response, he tried to think of a topic for conversation. "Um, how's the hotel job?"

"Got fired. 'The customer is always right.' I don't want to talk about it."

Adam could imagine what happened. He had run into his share of fussy patrons, but his quiet character and ability to tune out irrelevant irritations had seen him through. Grace, to say the least, did not have the same personality.

"Hi, Grace," said Joan, walking up. She exchanged a peck with Adam, then asked the girl, "how's your jo-?"

"Don't ask."

"Um, okay, I won't. Adam, Mom was very complimentary of your design. I can't wait to see it. When it's my turn to model--"

"Um, yes, Jane. About that--"

He was speaking more softly that usual, and Grace may not have heard him. At any rate, she interrupted. "I'll leave the design stuff to Mrs. G. But I don't like the philosophy."

"What do you mean?" asked Joan.

"Look at the choices. Getting rich, getting laid, and becoming a nerd. Nothing about helping your fellow man."

Adam was a bit floored by this, but Joan, after a moment, came to his defense. "It depends on your interpretation. Even if you decide that helping others is the most important thing, you still have to decide HOW. Through philanthropy, by personal contact, or by advancing human knowledge. So the choices in the painting is still valid."

"Thanks, Jane," said Adam in relief. "But, look, my plans for the painting have changed somewhat. Would you mind posing in the, um, altogether?"

_"WHAT?"_

"Altogether means--"

"I know what it means! My Mom's an artist, after all. It means the model stands there stark naked while the artists draws her breasts in all their glory. Or her butt, depending on the angle."

"So what'll it be, Rove?" said Grace, amused. Grace wasn't the most artistic person in the world; she probably thought of this as a boy's attempt to see his girlfriend naked. "Boobs or ass?"

"Um, bo---" Adam caught himself in a hurry as Joan glared at him.

"You said when this started that there wouldn't be any nudity!"

"Yeah, but my ideas have evolved, as I said. Aphrodite stands alone, without the symbols the other goddesses have, and still wins. It'd be even more dramatic if she even lacks not only attributes, but her own clothes. Besides showing her in all her beauty."

"There's nothing beautiful about my butt!" objected Joan.

This was getting awkward. Adam turned to his older friend. "Um, Grace, could you let us talk in privacy?"

"Just when things were getting interesting? All right. I gotta go talk to Luke. Happy Valentine's Day, you two."

It was only then that Adam remembered what day this was: February 14, the traditional holiday for lovers. There must have been decorations around the school and couples being more amorous than usual, but he had tuned it out. It was NOT a good day to come right out without preliminaries and tell your girlfriend that you wanted to see her naked. Joan must have expected to exchange some endearments.

At least with Grace gone, they were now more free to get personal. They were still in the school-yard, but nobody was paying attention. That was one of the advantages of being unpopular. "Jane, this isn't about sex, it's about art. You understand that from your mother's profession, don't you?"

"Yeah, I understand. I understand that if you paint me in the altogether, and do it accurately, then everybody who sees the picture will know what I look like in my birthday suit. I'd feel like Lady Godiva. No thanks."

"Um, everybody promised not to look at Lady Godiva when she --" Adam had read that in his mythology book.

"And you're going to make people promise not to look at your painting?"

Oops, bad parallel.

"If you think we're reached the point where -- well, we can talk about it. But it would be just you and me, not the whole world. That's final."

----------------------

During the rest of the week, Adam got several calls from girls. Maggie Begh called to say that she would like to pose with one of her horses, a "beautiful" Arabian. Adam agreed that it would be an interesting idea, though he wanted to sketch her alone first. He had never had much contact with horses before, and had never sketched one.

Grace called to say that she had apparently lined up another job. Luke and his scientific friends had put her in touch with a local lab that was doing some biology research, and the lab needed somebody to tend the experimental animals. Her work on the Cavalos' farm apparently had convinced the lab that she had enough experience.

Joan didn't call. And, although Adam was tempted on several occasions to pick up the phone and call her, he steeled himself not to do it. He was now convinced that his picture simply would not work unless he portrayed Aphrodite undraped. And Joan had been known to change her mind. Not all of her "mood swings" were due to mysterious instructions from God. Adam remembered vividly how, nearly a year ago, she had gotten in bed with him to consummate their relationship, then panicked at the last minute. She might still change her mind about the painting.

------

Compared with encounters with his best friends Grace and Joan, relations with the Beghs went remarkably well. The Professor sat in Adam's shed/studio without complaining about any of the clutter, nor did he find any fault with Adam's behaviour toward his daughter. Maggie complied with all of Adam's requests about posing, gesturing toward nonexistent symbols of wealth to her right, the viewer's left. Once he finished his sketch of the girl alone, Professor Begh drove them out to the farm so that he could draw her with her horse.

When Adam got back home, his father greeted him at the door. "A girl came by your studio, Adam. I didn't know when you'd be back and you forgot to take your cell phone, so I invited her to have a snack in the kitchen. She said her name was Elizabeth Goetzman."

Adam was puzzled. Elizabeth was a highly extroverted girl who had starred in school musicals for two years in a row, plus running for titles ranging from Student Body President to Homecoming Queen. Although at first sight she seemed stuck on herself, she was actually quite generous: sharing the limelight with Joan when the latter joined the musical last year, and helping a rival win the Homecoming contest. But Adam had scarcely ever spoken to her. Why would she be interested in visiting Adam? "Um, thanks."

His father lowered her voice. "She's not a new girlfriend, is she, Adam? None of my business, but I'm quite fond of the Girardi girl, and I hope nothing has come between you two."

"Elizabeth isn't my girlfriend, Dad," Adam reassured him, carefully not talking on the subject of Joan. He went into the kitchen and invited Elizabeth to the studio.

In the back yard, Elizabeth spoke up. "I didn't want to speak up in front of your father, Adam, because he might misunderstand this. I was talking to Joan yesterday. She said you wanted her to pose nude for a picture, and she was too shy to do it."

"Is she telling all her friends about this?" Adam asked worriedly.

"No, no. She mentioned it to me because she thought I might understand both sides. You see, this summer I'm going to be in an indie film where I take off -- well, you can guess."

"Um, yeah."

"Yeah. I told her what the director said, that nudity didn't always have to do with sex; it can represent openness or vulnerability or other ideas. But she still doesn't want to do it."

"Well, thank you for trying."

"And I'm willing to volunteer."

"You -- _what_?"

"Pose for you_. Au naturel_. It'll be good training for the movie. I need to see if I'm up to letting people see me without my clothes."

"Ulp. Are you sure?"

"Oh, I wouldn't dare do it in front of most boys. But you're obviously the quiet type. Safe."

Adam wasn't sure that was a compliment or not. But with Joan continually refusing, and the future of his painting project depending on it ----?

TBC


	6. Saving Grace

**TO THE FAIREST**

**Chapter 6 Saving Grace**

Grace stood at the bus stop. She was cold, and not just because the sun had gone down. Ever since that bizarre January day when she rode a horse for a dozen miles to dodge what she thought were police pursuers, cold had symbolized exile to her. That was a spooky Bible quote -- she wasn't sure whether it was in the Jewish Holy Books or the Christian ones -- in which the ultimate horror was not hell, but being "cast into the outer darkness".

She was distracted from her dark thoughts by the familiar clop-clop of horse's hooves. She looked up to see a colorful horse-drawn caleche draw up. It was not a common site in Arcadia, a small modern city with little to draw tourists. And so Grace was not surprised to recognize the "driver". Cowgirl God. "Care for a ride? For you, it's free. God's grace."

"Haha," responded Grace. "I need to get home."

"I'll drop you there when we're done."

Grace climbed aboard, not in the passenger seat but sitting next to the driver. Suddenly it seemed less cold. Maybe it was physical -- the design of the caleche, or the body heat of the horse and driver -- or maybe God was detecting her discomfort and alleviating it by a little miracle. Cowgirl God shook the reins and the horse started trotting again.

"You seem downcast," Cowgirl God said. "What's the trouble?"

"You can read my mind and find out," grumbled Grace.

"That's so one-sided -- me reading your mind while you can't read mine. Talking, we can converse as equals."

Grace sighed. "I got fired again. I walked in the lab, and found them dissecting a mouse that I had tended yesterday. I threw up. It didn't hurt anything in particular, but it seemed to prove that I didn't have the temperament for the job."

"So you were tender-hearted. It's not something to be ashamed of."

"Maybe not. But two jobs started, two jobs lost within days. I'll never move out of my parents' house at this rate."

"Is moving out so important? Grace, for years you've been cheated out of a happy family life, because of your mother's drinking. Now that she has kicked the habit, you have an opportunity to make up for lost time. Enjoy it."

Grace blinked, startled at this new way of looking at things. Yes, it was a relief that her mother had finally stopped drinking, but she had regarded that as the absence of an evil, not a positive good. Happy family life was something she associated with the Girardis. She wasn't in the habit of thinking of her own home that way.

"But there's another problem," said Grace, not wanting to lose this opportunity to get advice from the supreme Expert. "Look, all my life I've been criticizing other people. But who am I to pass judgment? I've never accomplished anything myself. If I tried to, I might have made the same mistakes myself."

"You pass judgements out of high ideals, Grace. Don't be ashamed of having high ideals. And don't judge yourself harshly."

"The last two bosses I've had think I'm a failure. As for the Cavalos, well, maybe they were just too polite to say that I was a failure."

"I can see into hearts, and I can assure you that the Cavalos did NOT see you that way, Grace. And you can't value yourself by how other people see you. Except me. I assure you that you are valuable in the sight of God. And Luke loves you."

"Sometimes I doubt that. About Luke, I mean. He hasn't wanted to sleep with me since that one night. I must've really screwed up -- um, no pun intended." _Good lord, here I am complaining to God that I'm not getting enough premarital sex. According to most religions, I'm not even supposed to be having premarital sex._

God seemed to dodge that issue. "That just proves that what he feels for you transcends mere lust."

"Maybe."

"What about you? Have you shown any interest in what's valuable to Luke? Over the past month he's discarded his favorite subject, Physics, and taken up Biology because you asked him to. I'd say that that's a proof of love. But have you noticed?"

"Um, no."

"Look for the good in people as well as the flaws, Grace. Only then can you judge them properly."

"Or maybe I should stop judging them."

"No. Your willingness to stand outside society and criticize it is one of the reasons that I chose you."

"So you say I'm better than other people?"

"No, Grace. You are different from other people. Don't translate that into better and worse. That's another interpretation of that Greek myth that Adam is working on. Athena, Hera, Aphrodite got along perfectly well as longer as each concentrated on her own sphere -- wisdom, power, and love. Once they started feuding all chaos broke lose, including the Trojan War. Here, have this." Suddenly she produced an apple.

"You're giving me one of your horse's apples?"

Cowgirl God laughed. "It wasn't intended for my horse. Take a look."

Grace looked. The apple was inscribed with golden letters spelling out TO A FAIR LADY. Not the fairest, simply fair. Grace bit into it.

"Ah, here we are at your house." Grace started; she had almost completely ignored her surroundings, the landmarks of Arcadia. She hadn't even been aware of maneuvering the slow caleche through traffic, which must have been a challenge. Somehow she had tuned everything else out, or God had done it for her. "And don't worry about the job seeking, Grace. I can foretell this: one will come up which is perfect for you."

Grace got out of the carriage, gave the horse a pat, and walked up to her house with renewed confidence.

TBC


	7. The Naked Truth

**TO THE FAIREST**

**Chapter 7 The Naked Truth**

_(Author's Note: this chapter rated PG13 for references to nudity and some discussion of sex)_

"Can I help you? -- Oh, it's you, Mom."

"Does being your Mom mean I don't get help in your bookstore?" asked Helen, amused.

"Of course you do, if you're here on business."

"I'm looking for a cookbook that covers special meals for holidays. Mardi Gras falls on February 28 this year; that's only 5 days away."

"We're celebrating Mardi Gras? Is Dad cool with that?" In spite of its wild associations, Joan knew that Mardi Gras was the day before Lent, when people traditionally used up the food that they would deny themselves during the season, and thus had a religious significance.

"It's for Lily's sake," said Helen, referring to Kevin's wife; the two had married last summer. "And anything that gives your Dad an excuse to cook--"

"Yeah. I'll look."

The computerized database came up with a book called COOKING FOR HOLIDAYS, and Joan, once she found it on the shelf, made sure Mardi Gras was listed in its index. Helen was delighted by the find, and by the efficient way her daughter's bookstore ran.

"Um, Mom, there's something that I need your advice about."

"Certainly, darling." Helen looked relieved at being consulted for a change.

"There's a reading table back here. Let me sit where I can see the door -- okay. Adam keeps having new ideas about his mythological painting. One of them is that Aphrodite should be naked."

"Yes, I can see that would work. But wait -- YOU'RE Aphrodite."

"Yeah. And I don't think I can take off my clothes in front of Adam."

"I understand."

"Then there's Elizabeth Groezmann -- remember her?"

"Of course. The musical and the Homecoming contest. But what--"

"SHE's willing to pose. Apparently she has a nude scene in a movie this summer, and this would be a dry run."

"Hmmm. Do you think she has an interest in Adam, or vice versa?"

"Nah. It's strictly professional between the two, NOW. But I don't want Adam seeing another girl that way. It's how the thing with Bonnie started, wasn't it?"

"Does Adam know of your concerns?"

"Yeah. He and Elizabeth agreed to hold off making plans until Friday -- tomorrow. I still don't know what to tell them."

"This IS a poser -- um, I didn't intend that pun. I can think of one set of answers regarding Adam as your sweetheart, and another set of answers regarding him as an artist."

"Do the artist angle. I can think through the sweetheart part."

"Adam's art, in general, is very important to him. And I've never seen him so bound up in a single work as he is with this mythological painting. But now you're refusing to pose for it, and you won't let another girl pose for it, and Adam can't work without a model. So essentially you're keeping him from finishing his most important work. Making him choose between the art and you."

"Ewww."

"Of course there are some compromises. Maybe Adam could hire a professional model, one could keep it all quite businesslike. Of course that would cost money."

"Which Adam doesn't have a lot of."'

"Right. How about a photograph of somebody? I took a picture of you this summer for the Joan of Arc picture."

"I asked. But Adam says it won't work. He says he needs a live model. Not just flesh and blood, but somebody who symbolizes the right things to him."

"A bit quirky, but I know a lot of artists crazier than that. I suppose that you'll have to put up with Elizabeth, with whatever precautions will make you feel better. At least they're being sensitive to your position. If you watched and made sure nothing went on, would you fell better? And then there are degrees of nudity. There's the so-called VENUS PUDICA pose, where the goddess is unclothed, but covers the most intimate parts with her hands. Ever see Botticelli's BIRTH OF VENUS?"

"Yeah. So you're saying let them go at it."

"From the artistic point of view."

----------------

Saturday afternoon, Helen was still leafing through her new cookbook when Joan came in and slammed the front door.

"Hello, dear," Helen said, trying to sound bland. "How did the modeling session go?"

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"All right."

Joan sat at the kitchen table in a sulk, and finally said: "Aren't you gonna ask what happened?"

"All right," Helen replied, amused at the flip-flop. "What happened?"

"Well. Elizabeth showed up at the studio, in ordinary shirt and jeans, and Adam explained what he wanted. She seemed relieved by the Venus Pudding idea. Then she asked us to close our eyes while she got undressed and into her pose. That took a VERY long time -- I think Elizabeth was nervous but was too proud to back out."

"Finally she said OK, and we looked, and she was up against the gray screen, naked but in the Venus Pudding pose. But --"

"Yes?"

"Well, to start with, Elizabeth's pretty, but she didn't look like a goddess. Too pudgy."

"I suppose that comes from eating burgers and fries instead of olives as the ancient Greeks did. But how did Adam react to all this?"

"He seemed to take it in stride. He got out his sketch pad and tried to draw her. But everybody was uncomfortable. Elizabeth complained twice that she was 'freezing my butt' -- not surprising, I guess -- so I kept turning up the heat until I was almost sweating. At one point Adam asked Elizabeth to look more alluring, and she snapped: 'I don't feel alluring, just embarrassed. I want to get this over with and get back in my jeans'. I think she was having second thoughts about that indie movie."

"After about ten minutes, Adam threw down his pencil and said 'This isn't working.' And Elizabeth was like 'I've made a spectacle of myself, and you're saying I'm not sexy enough?' She walked up, picked up a spare palette, and whacked Adam on the head with it. Then she stomped out of the shed."

"Still naked?"

"Um, yeah. She came back a few seconds later, gathered up her blouse and jeans and undies, and walked out again -- stop laughing, Mom. It wasn't funny."

"Well, it sounds like it."

"But afterward Adam and I had a huge argument. And -- I really don't want to talk about it."

Helen waited a moment, but this time apparently Joan really, really didn't want to talk about it.

"I'm going to take a shower," Joan announced finally. "The temperature was too high in the shed."

She didn't look over-heated in a physical sense. Helen guessed that Joan needed to cool off and make a clean start, metaphorically.

After her daughter went up the stairs, Helen stared at the phone. Meddling in her kids' love affairs would be disastrous, of course. But perhaps she could talk to Adam artist-to-artist, or rather mentor-to-student, and suggest that he needed to deal with his art with more planning, not with new whims that could upset the friends who were trying to help him. Finally she dialed the Rove number.

_"This is Karl Rove. Adam and I will be out of town tonight picking up an emergency furniture order for City Hall. If _

_you will call back tomorrow--"_

Helen hung up. The furniture problem made sense; City Hall was still recovering from the lunatic's bomb of last month. For Adam to go with his father was unusual but perhaps, like Joan, he wanted to distance himself from whatever they argued about.

-----

In the shower, Joan brooded over the argument with Adam, the one thing she didn't want to share with her mother.

"Adam, are you all right?" Joan had asked, rushing over after Elizabeth had hit him with the palette.

"Um, yeah, I think so, Jane," he had responded. "I think the beanie absorbed most of the force."

"Whatever possessed you to tell Elizabeth that her, um, stuff wasn't sexy enough?"

"I didn't say that. Elizabeth thought I had. My problem was that I don't love Elizabeth, so I couldn't get inspired. Jane, I love _you."_

"Um, love you too." It was most ill-timed recitation of the three famous words that Joan had ever heard.

"If you had agreed to pose in the first place--"

"We're not going back there! Particular after seeing Elizabeth humiliate herself."

"Do you think I'm trying to humiliate you by asking you to undress? If you like, I'll take my clothes o--"

"Ewww, don't even think about it."

"I know what's bothering you, Jane. You're afraid once I see you, um, undraped, that my hormones will take over and I'll --"

"Don't say it." _No, he's not going to force me into sex. I trust him not to turn into a monster, like the one who attacked my mother_. "But you'll want me to do it with you, voluntarily, and resent it when I don't."

_Ulp, I shouldn't have said it that way. Will he interpret it as "don't make love", or "don't want to make love"?_

"Jane, this is so topsy-turvy. Forget the painting. Are we ever going to get over the hugs-and-kisses stage and go to something more intimate?"

"Don't you males ever think of anything else?"

"I'm not talking about sex in particular. Marriage requires intimacy, too."

Joan had gasped. If Adam had left it at that, the introduction of marriage as a topic could have sent the conversation into a different direction. Unfortunately Adam had capped the reference by going in a different direction. "But with Bonnie, a girl I cared almost nothing about, I went all the way. So backwards from what I really feel."

"Oh, is that what this is about? You want me to be more like Bonnie, a girl who slept around and got knocked up at 17?"

"No, no, I'm talking about how disproportionate --"

"PAINTINGS are disprop-pop-puh -- what you said, Adam. THIS IS REAL LIFE. Get your head out of your sketchbook long enough to tell the difference!" She had gone out, slamming the door in turn.

Joan breathed in a drop of water and coughed on it. The shower had gong on far too long, she realized, while she was in the midst of reverie. Stepping out, she dried herself off, then donned a bathrobe to walk to her room.

She punched a button on her CD player, hoping that music, any music, would distract her attention from the conversation whirling in her mind. Removing her bathrobe to get dressed, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, the full-length mirror that hung on her linen-closet door. On an impulse, she stepped in front of it and try to imagine herself posing for Adam in the "altogether".

_Crap, I'm even pudgier than Elizabeth. I shouldn't have poked fun at her._ Aloud she said, "Mirror mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of us all?"

"You are fair, Joan," said the diva on the CD. "As I told Grace, don't try to rank yourself compared to others. Comparisons are odious."

"O my God!" she muttered. Hastily she pulled the bathrobe back on, realizing that the gesture was somewhat irrational. The CD was sound-only technology and could not "see" her. On the other hand, it was just a channel for God, who might have been watching all the time; you could scarcely accuse an all-seeing Deity for, well, having seen everything. "I suppose that you've come to give me advice. What do you think about the unclothed human body?"

"I'm rather biased on the subject, seeing that I created them that way," said Diva God. _Isn't that redundant? Diva is Italian for "goddess", isn't it?_

"Are you saying it's all right?"

"It depends on circumstances, Joan. There are certain organs which are both vulnerable and crucial to producing or nursing children. It is prudent to protect them. And in your climate, you need protection against cold. Of course, once people get used to clothes, the whole psychology of forbidden fruit gets involved--"

"Yeah, you've got experience with that. Couldn't you be more specific? I want to know about Adam and me, not Adam and Eve."

"Precisely, Joan. This isn't about you and an arbitrary artist. This is about you and Adam. A conflict between your wishes and his wishes. The real key question is: what does your happiness mean to Adam, and what does his happiness mean to you?"

"I forgave him that thing with Bonnie--"

"So you think that it is his turn to make a sacrifice?"

"It's not a matter of 'turns'."

"Then decide what it is between you. Use your reason, Joan, and not merely your emotions." And with that the diva went back to singing the latest hit. Joan would have to make do with what she had been told.

And she spent most of Saturday night thinking over 'what it is between us.'

TBC


	8. Aphrodite, the Bringer of Love

**TO THE FAIREST**

**Chapter 8 Aphrodite, the Bringer of Love**

_(Author's Note: like the previous chapter, rated PG-13 for nudity and some discussion of sex)_

Adam tossed and turned in his hotel bed. Moving the furniture had been exhausting, particularly since his father's back was bad and Adam had done the bulk of the work, yet Adam could not get to sleep.

Grace had told him the mental anguish she had felt last month, when fleeing from Arcadia. Experiencing the world outside of Arcadia without one's friends, when combined with the possibility that the friendship could never be restored, was nightmarish. The last that he had seen of Joan was her slamming the door on him---

Adam looked at the clock: 5:30, and it was Sunday morning. Two-way contact was out of the question, but what about leaving a message--?

Moving by the twilight of the downtown Baltimore outside the window, Adam unpacked his father's laptop and turned it on. Adam's Email account had been installed on it long ago, and the light of the screen itself was sufficient for Adam. The difficult thing was deciding what to write.

_Jane, _

_The past month has been so crazy. Do you know how the picture got started? I had decided to turn down offers from two art schools so that I could be with you in college. Then I decided to paint the JUDGEMENT to dramatize my decision: love winning over all else._

_But somehow I lost my sense of proportion--_

He knew that Joan was probably quite tired of that word, but it was one that came naturally to Adam with his artistic instincts.

_--and the picture seemed more important that the love that inspired it. Well, it's time to put things back in order. The hell with the picture. When I get home, I'm going to throw out the sketches, and apologize to the friends whose time I wasted -- Ms. Lischak, Maggie, and Elizabeth. Especially Elizabeth. Can we forget my folly of the past month, and get back to how things were?_

It was, of course, far more verbose than a normal Email message, but he could not think of anything to spare in it. He made sure that he had Joan's address set correctly, then pressed SEND. Weird, that one of the most heart-felt letters of his life would be transmitted to his beloved via twenty-first century electronic impulses, but that way at least it would get to Joan as soon as possible.

--------------

The van didn't need unloading at the house; his father would be driving it to City Hall the next day. So after dropping his suitcase inside the house, Adam walked to the studio to throw out the mess.

The heat was on when he opened the door. Odd, he never left it on during absences unless his odder artworks required a warm temperature. Then he realized why it was on. On the far side of his studio, Joan was asleep on the cot. Not just an accidental dropping off either: she had her head on a pillow and sheets and blanket over her body. Adam didn't think all that belonged to his shed.

He tiptoed over and gazed at her. He had never seen her asleep before, except when she was very sick in the hospital, which scarcely counted. On that awkward night in the back of the track she had been awake at all the times he had. He bent down and kissed her on the forehead. She woke up in seconds, like Sleeping Beauty. "Oh, Adam. You're here finally."

"Yeah, and, um, so are you. What's going on?"

She sat up and the sheets fell off, revealing that she was wearing a nightgown. "I couldn't sleep last night. My computer gave the YOU'VE GOT MAIL beep at 5:30, so I got up and looked. When I saw that you were planning to destroy your sketches, I got dressed, left a note for my parents, and dashed over here. Fortunately I still had the key you gave me. I've wrecked one of your artworks, Adam; I didn't want to be the cause of another one being destroyed."

"Thank you for being so loyal." _That doesn't explain why Jane brought her nightgown and decided to take a nap here when she was finished. But let her go at her own pace. The last time I tried to anticipate her desires, in back of the truck, was a disaster._

"You said that you wanted to stick with me in college," Joan said, getting up and walking around the studio barefoot. "But why stop at that? Can't we commit ourselves, after two-and-a-half years? I don't ever want to go through another night of uncertainty like that, ever again."

"What do you mean?"

"Adam, WILL YOU MARRY ME?"

"Wha-- yes! Of course! But -- isn't that my line?"

She laughed. "As Grace might say, welcome to the world of gender equality."

She walked up and gave him a peck in the cheek, as if to welcome him to that world. But when Adam responded by enveloping her in his arms, she put up no resistance. She wanted to be hugged.

He didn't know how long that he let the euphoria dominate him. When he finally started thinking rationally again, he muttered, "Ripples?"

"You think?" Joan must have had the idea already. She had been dealing with this stuff for two years.

"When He urged me to do a mythological painting, did He know this would happen?"

"He foreknows everything. Whether He intended for us to get together, He never would tell me. Maybe He wants us to feel free to manage that part of our lives."

"So it's up to us to plan things. When--?"

"June?"

"So long away? We're not even out of February. Now who's being traditional?"

"We'll have just graduated. Ending an old way of life, starting a new."

"Yeah---"

"And there's something else." She sobered. "Look, Adam. Getting -- physical -- frightens me. That's why I couldn't do it after the concert last year. It's why I still want some months to prepare. But if I'm to be your wife, I have to get over it. Please don't ask me to sleep with you until we're married. But to prove that I'm committed, I'll let you draw me today in all my -- altogether." She started unbuttoning her nightgown. Her reasons for wearing it were now plain. Letting Adam see her asleep, half undressed, were steps toward bolder behavior.

"You don't have to do this, Jane. It would be selfish of me to insist, if it would make you miserable. As I've said, forget the painting."

"Nonsense, Adam. To be portrayed as the goddess of beauty, the one being in the world for which you'd sacrifice everything? I'm the one being egotistical. Go get your stuff."

Adam's old sketches were still hidden -- Joan had forgotten to bring them out again in all the excitement -- but he found a fresh pad and a set of pencils. "Got 'em."

"Okay. Just one thing. If anybody at school asks, you put my head on somebody else's body. It's not me that they're seeing naked."

Adam laughed. "Right."

"Well -- here goes." Standing in front of the screen, she undid the last of the buttons and shrugged the gown off her shoulders. It fell to the ground, leaving her body bare. Immediately she slapped her hands across her breasts and her torso, instinctively taking the Venus Pudica pose. But what he could see was wonderful, not because it conformed to classical notions of beauty, but because it was Jane. But she looked flustered. Maybe they were going too fast.

Thinking back on it later, Adam was proud that his predominant feeling was not desire, but concern for his beloved. "Jane, if you're feeling--"

"Shut up and draw, Adam!" his muse commanded.

Full of inspiration, now sure that he had found his ideal symbol, he started drawing the fairest lady in the world.

THE END


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